


A Sliver of Light

by Ethereal_Wishes



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-13
Updated: 2017-06-13
Packaged: 2018-11-13 13:27:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11186076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ethereal_Wishes/pseuds/Ethereal_Wishes
Summary: After fleeing the battlefront, Rumplestiltskin shatters his ankle and is branded a coward. His wife leaves him and takes their newborn son with her, leaving him desolate. As the years trudge on, He begins to loathe his entire existence, wishing to die, he cries out for help, and he finds himself making a deal with the immortal being known as the Light One.





	A Sliver of Light

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ladybugsmomma](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladybugsmomma/gifts).



A Sliver of Light

A/AN: A random prompt which popped in my head as most of them do. This is probably the most peculiar piece I've ever written, and I'm quite fond of it. Enjoy, Dearies!

The seer had told Rumpelstiltskin he was to be a father. Her words filled him with utmost dread after she'd told him he would die in the upcoming battle. He'd taken the nearest object he could find, a sledgehammer, and purposefully shattered the bones in his foot, preventing him from fighting. He wouldn't leave his boy an orphan as his father had done to him. However, the consequences of desertion were dire. The duke's men showed him no mercy as they gouged out his left eye with a knife. He'd been forced to walk home with a broken leg and one good eye left to guide him through the treacherous terrain.

Milah had been unforgiving when she'd heard of his mutiny. He'd begged to hold his son, and for a few precious days, she'd allowed them to bond. His heart was fuller than it had been in years, and the gift of life he'd been presented with had made it all worth it, but Milah wasn't satisfied. She left him, prying the newborn from his arms and boarding a ship which would take them both far away. She couldn't handle being shackled to a coward, so she left to begin anew somewhere else. Had his sacrifice all been in vain? He began to wonder as the years ticked by. He attempted to spin, because he had to eat whether he liked it or not. It was the only thing he was good at, but no one bought his threads no matter how lovely they were. He was a disgrace to his entire community, and the civilians of his unforgiving village had ousted him.

The only thing which fueled his desire to keep fighting was the prospect of seeing his son again. He grew thinner, and the skin clung sickly from his bones. He'd been subjected to begging on the streets for a few coppers and scraps from anyone who'd show him a bit of mercy. Sometimes the nuns did or a curious child who wanted to catch a glimpse of the one-eyed cripple. His left eye socket was empty, and the skin had become knotted and ugly around it.

One night, he lay in his bed freezing under the many quilts and furs he'd piled upon it. The winters were harsh and unforgiving, and he feared this night might be his last. The flames within the hearth licked at the last remaining bit of firewood he had left. He had a deep gnawing feeling within that he was going to freeze to death before the night was over. He wasn't traditionally a religious man, and he believed the gods held no mercy for a lame cripple, but still, he cried out to whoever was listening, never believing anyone would answer his call.

"Please, someone, anyone, spare me. I fear I don't have much time left, and I know the least of what I deserve is a second chance, but please, if anyone is listening, help me," the spinner pleaded as he drifted into unconsciousness.

He opened his eye hazily sometime later that morning as shafts of sunlight poured through the windowpane. He'd expected to wake up in his lonesome hovel, but was utterly surprised to witness the grandeur of a room he'd never stepped foot in before. He sat up, allowing his hands to splay over the downy comforter. What was this place? Had he died and stepped foot into the afterlife?

He blinked owlishly, glancing down at his new silk nightclothes. The thread was finer than any he could have spun himself. He clamored out of bed, eager to explore his new home and to properly thank whomever had brought him here. He hesitantly reached for the brass knob, turning it clumsily and pushing open the oaken door. He plotted into the hallway, the flagstone felt cool against his heels as he explored the large castle. He had no particular destination in mind, and ended up in front of two enormous looming doors. He sensed whoever was responsible for his salvation lay beyond those double doors. He shouldered the door, pushing it with all of the strength he could muster. It opened to reveal an expansive library. He hobbled inside, glancing around at the shelves of books which towered to the ceiling.

"Hello?" he called out warily. When he didn't receive an answer, he decided to continue his venture of the mesmerizing chamber. The room was utterly useless to him, because he couldn't read a word. Peasants weren't given the opportunity to become educated unless they were apprenticed to a wealthy nobleman at a young age. He'd been raised by his aunts, and they could neither read nor write, but they could spin, and he was fortunate enough to have learned their trade.

A green leather bound tome caught his eye, and he reached for it. "That one is a favorite of mine, " an alluring voice resounded. The book fell from his hands, clattering to the floor.

"I'm so so-r-r-ry!" he stammered, freezing in place, expecting to receive a lashing from whoever was standing behind him.

"It's quite alright." The woman beamed. She was so breathtakingly beautiful that he wanted to weep. She held an otherworldly beauty, one becoming of a goddess. She reached down to pick up the book, tucking it securely back in its proper nook.

"Who are you?" he queried, his eyes darting around nervously.

His breath hitched in his throat as she cradled his scarred face delicately in her palms. "I'm known as the Light One, Rumpelstiltskin," she replied, and the way she enunciated his name left him breathless. It was the curse his father had bestowed upon him, but coming from her mouth, it sounded like a blessing.

"You're the one who answered my plea..." he stated, his tongue turning to lead as her azure pools gazed upon him with such kindness.

"That I am," she acknowledged, brushing his jaw with her thumb gently, making him shiver.

"But, why? I'm no more than a half blind spinner," he berated himself.

The Light One shook her head dubiously. "Oh, my dearest, Rumple, you're so much more than that," she whispered, sending an electric shock through him.

"What ever do you mean?" he queried uncertainly.

"In time, you'll understand the true value which resides within you. For now, you'll join me in the dining hall for a great feast," she commanded. His stomach burgled at the mention of food, heat rising in his cheeks from the interruption. She didn't seem to notice as she snapped her fingers. The scenery immediately changed, and Rumpelstiltskin found they were in a great dining hall. She led him to a table with two chairs and snapped her fingers again, summoning a tea service.

"Would you like some tea?" She inquired, offering him a steaming hot cup of earl gray.

"Yes, please." he responded, reaching out to take the cup from her. He held the steaming cup to his mouth and attempted to take a sip but it fell clumsily from his grasp. He cursed inwardly as the blue and white china cup clattered to the floor, discoloring the carpet. The enchantress blinked after taking a sip from her own cup, quickly picking up on his disgruntled countenance.

"I'm so sorry! I'm such a clumsy oaf!" he berated himself, while attempting to clean up the mess with a linen napkin. She snapped her fingers and the spill vanished. She stood up and bent down to pick up the cup. She examined it and noticed a small chip on the side of it.

"I'm s-s-sorry for damaging your things," he apologized, expecting a lashing or for her to turn him into a slug and crush him under her slipper.

"It's just a cup and it's only chipped. I think it adds charm to it really," she beamed, reaching out her hand, assisting him to his feet.

"You're not angry with me?" he inquired timidly, like a scolded child.

"Why would I be angry with you? I have many cups but none like this one. I could fix it but then it would take away from the memory we just made," she smiled radiantly. "Now, take a seat and enjoy this handsome spread!" She ordered.

Rumpelstiltskin was rendered speechless by her generosity. His mouth watered as he gaped at the meal spread before him, a feast fit for seven kings. There were exotic foods he'd never seen before, and he tried a sampling of everything. There was pheasant, mutton, stag, pies, cakes, fruits, and vegetables he'd never tasted before, and it was glorious.

The Light One observed him take his fill. He was starving and his skin hung loosely from his bones. She grinned in satisfaction as his pale skin began to return to its healthy pink pigment. She longed to see him thriving again.

"Are you feeling sated?" she inquired, glancing at him inquisitively.

"I am, and I thank you kindly for your benevolence, but I also know that you can't be doing all of this for free?" He surmised, licking a glob of chocolate from his upper lip absentmindedly.

"The Light One requires no price, Rumpelstiltskin. Stay with me and become well," she commanded, filling his heart with ease.

"But, why are you doing this? Why didn't you leave me in my hovel to rot?" he inquired, standing to his feet, trembling unsteadily. She reached out her hand to steady him. He gasped as a warm energy erupted through him. He could feel sinew and bone weaving itself back together in his lame leg.

"Now, just one more thing," she respired softly, cupping his right cheek in her hand as she flourished her other over his left eye. She pulled away, and he instantly missed her pleasant warmth. He yearned to reveal in it eternally. He blinked his eyes in astonishment. His eyesight was stronger than it had been in years.

"What did you do?" He gazed at her vigilantly.

"I restored your eyesight," she smiled triumphantly at him.

"But, why? What do you have to gain from any of this?" He questioned her disbelievingly.

"My reasons are my own, and you'll learn of them in time," she returned. He longed to converse with her longer, but his eyes felt leaden with sleep. The events of the day had greatly wearied him. A gentle blue smog engulfed him, transporting him to his chamber. As his head hit the pillow, he fell asleep instantaneously.

Over the next several weeks, Rumpelstiltskin felt himself growing stronger. He'd gotten into the habit of exploring the castle at his leisure. The Light One had gifted him with his own personal spinning wheel which he used to make a variety of threads. He found joy in using his time to make her gowns which she wore to the balls he accompanied her to. She'd taught him how to dance, and he savored his new life high society, but something was amiss. The people he met at the gatherings were blissfully happy, and he couldn't fathom why their kingdoms weren't torn by war or famine.

One day he was sitting in the great hall spinning monotonously. The Light One sat in her favorite armchair, fully engrossed in a novel. He halted the wheel momentarily, glancing at her. "Excuse me, Mistress?" he queried hesitantly.

"Yes, Rumpelstiltskin?" she glanced at him, closing her book briefly.

"Much time has passed since you brought me here, though I'm not sure how long. However, there's something I can't quite figure out. We've attended many celebrations, but all of the kingdoms seem to be united. There are no wars or famines. How is such a feat possible?" He asked, his mind buzzing with queries.

The Light One wet her lips. "Rumplestitlskin, do you ever feel ill or unhappy here with me?" She queried.

"No, Mistress. I'm always happy here with you, and I wasn't before," he reassured her.

"Rumple, you know me as the Light One, but I have many names. The night you called for me, I merely revealed one to you, but I believe you're ready to hear another." Her timbre had grown serious and brooding.

She glided towards him, adorned in the golden ballgown he'd hand tailored for her. It was his favorite of all the ones she'd worn. She sat on the bench, facing him. She intertwined their fingers together in an elegant knot. "What's your name mistress? I want to know everything about you," he insisted, his voice full of longing.

"My full given name is Belle Morana," she whispered against the shell of his ear, her warm breath tickling the hairs on his neck.

His throat became dry as he glanced quizzically at her. "You're the angel of death?" he inquired in disbelief.

"I'm one of them. This castle is the holding place for those who aren't yet ready to cross over. There are many ports between life and death. I've known you since you were first conceived in your mother's womb. I watched her give life to you, but I knew one day I would bring you home with me. Do you feel at home, Rumpelstiltskin? Would you like to stay here forever with me?" she squeezed his hand tightly, awaiting an answer.

"You mean, the night you rescued me, I'd truly died? If I stayed here with you, I would never cross over?" he asked.

"Yes, the night I retrieved you, you had passed. If you're truly happy here, then you never have to leave. In fact, we're having a very special guest over for dinner tonight," she illuminated.

"I want to stay here with you forever then," he consented, leaning his forehead against hers.

"We should seal the deal then," she beamed, her eyes reminiscent of a cluster of stars, brightest in all the vast universe.

"What does that entail?" he asked, his Adam's apple bobbing nervously in his throat. She leaned in, brushing her lips ever so slightly against his. He closed his eyes, savoring the feeling of her petal soft lips. She broke the kiss, and he opened his eyes.

"Come with me," she instructed, proffering her hand to him. He clasped her hand gently as she led him to the great dining hall. There were three place settings prepared, and he wondered who would be joining them.

"Our guest will be here soon," she added, clasping her hands at her waist as they awaited for his arrival. Rumpelstiltskin blinked owlishly as a boy with a mop of dark curls entered the dining chamber.

"Welcome home, Baelfire," Belle greeted him warmly. The boy fixated his gaze on the spinner, and he realized it was his long lost son standing before him.

"How?" he mouthed to the Light One.

"Baelfire has been on a long hard journey, Rumpelstiltskin. It was time for him to come home to you, so you both could be a family again," she answered, refusing to delve into the details of his passing.

"Papa...May I address you as such? I've been wanting to meet you forever," Baelfire remarked sheepishly to the man sitting across from him.

"That you may, my boy, and luckily we have forever to catch up," he remarked, clasping the teen's hand firmly in his own as joyous tears spilled over his lashes. Father and son had finally been reunited, though it had taken death for it to ever be. Milah had left Baelfire at a poverty stricken orphanage when he was two, leaving with a pirate captain to free herself of her responsibilities. He'd been forced to fight in the nefarious Duke's Ogres' War and had died in battle shortly after.

Belle excused herself from the table, giving father and son time to catch up. She traipsed to her balcony window, glancing out over her sliver of paradise. It wasn't wise to become attached to a mortal, but the Light One couldn't find it in herself to let him go. Once mortals crossed over into the light, they were reborn as someone else. She yearned to spare the spinner and his son from the inevitable woes of another life, so she kept them safely tucked inside the confines of her castle forever. They lived outside of the boundaries of time eternally, and all lived happily ever after.

The End


End file.
